


I'm Nobody, Who Are You?

by Krit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Prostitution, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krit/pseuds/Krit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski and his best friend Scott McCall lead a group of homeless street kids. They do what they have to do to survive. They take care of each other, and those who take care of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much going to be gratuitous angst.  
> Tags and pairings will be added with each chapter.

Stiles watched the rush hour traffic fly by from the stoop of an abandoned building. It was early still. Only 5:30. Around 8 or 9 he would start to get business. Lonely men leaving their wives after dinner with some excuse or another. At which point, Stiles would greet them with wide innocent eyes. His hands wringing as he told them how he needed to make enough money so his mom could make rent this month. He’d slide into their cars and act so grateful. He’d take such good care of them that they’d usually end up paying him more than he asked for. He’d thank them over and over and promise that oh yes, he would find a safer way to make money. Because the streets were no place for such a sweet young boy, and no his mom had no idea where the money came from.

 

It was a well rehearsed act. One Stiles had perfected over the past two years. His mother died a slow and painful death when he was nine, and his father had been shot and killed on duty when he was fourteen. He spent almost a year being bounced around in foster care, before giving up on the system and striking out on his own.

 

After a few hours, Stiles had a few hundred dollars tucked away in his pockets and headed home. This month’s home was a run down house just south of the warehouse district. It was better than most of the places they squatted, but not as good as some. But it wouldn’t last. It never did.

 

When Stiles walked inside, he saw Scott counting money on his sleeping bag. Stiles grabbed a twenty out of his pocket and dropped it in front of his friend.

 

“Thanks man.”

 

“Tell her I said hi.” Stiles went into the next room and dropped down on his own ‘bed’. He grabbed the cookie tin from behind his pillow and dropped the night’s earnings inside. He then opened the Tupperware container next to it and frowned. “Hey Scotty, I’m low on supplies. I’ll be back in the morning.”

 

“Kay. Be careful.”

 

“Never!”

 

~*~

 

Peter lived uptown. A nice, secluded little house in the suburbs with a big fence. Stiles opened the gate and walked around to the back, knocking on the basement window. The root cellar door opened and Stiles sauntered in like he owned the place.

 

“Miss me?”

 

“What do you want Stilinski?” Peter drawled, flopping back down onto the couch in the corner.

 

“I’m out.”

 

“Candy or utensils?”

 

“All of the above.”

 

“Five hundred.”

 

“Oh now.” Stiles walked over and slid into Peter’s lap. “When was the last time I paid you in cash?”

 

“Maybe I’m bored with you.”

 

Stiles rolled his hips and kissed Peter’s neck. His hands sliding under the older man’s shirt.

 

“I sincerely doubt that.”

 

“Five hundred dollars’ worth, you’re staying the night.” Peter started undoing Stiles’ jeans and bit down hard on his neck.

 

“Already planned on it.” Stiles pulled his shirt off before removing Peter’s as well. “You gonna give me a sample before I pay up?”

 

Peter chuckled and reached into the side table. “Gimme your arm, strawberry.”

 

“That’s never funny.” Stiles reached his arm out and rolled his eyes as Peter tied it off and prepped the needle. Stiles loved to watch as the heroin entered his vein. It was a morbid fascination. A preoccupation with his own self destruction. He was too much of a coward to kill himself outright. But knowing that he was doing it slowly, actively working towards seeing his parents again… It helped. By the time Peter began to fuck him, he was already too high to care. Peter was always rougher than any of the men Stiles picked up on the street. They always saw him as a lost little kid in need of help and comfort. Peter saw him as a toy. Something to use and throw away. A warm body to play with in exchange for some drugs and a handful of needles. In the morning, Stiles would be sore and exhausted, covered in bruises and with a sore throat. But he would have a bag in his hand with enough heroin to last a week. Two weeks if he rationed it right. But he usually traded a hit or two for a few lines of cocaine.

 

~*~

 

When Stiles got back to the house, the sun had risen and he was ready to crash. When he got inside, Scott was still asleep, but he opened his eyes and made an inquisitive noise.

 

“I’m back. I’m fine. I’m going to bed.”

 

“Mhm.” Scott gave him a thumbs up and rolled over, snuggling back up against his girlfriend. Stiles flopped down on his bed and shot up again before settling down. Just as he was falling asleep he felt someone crawl up next to him and wrap their arms around him. A hand in their hair confirmed that it was Isaac. Stiles snorted and pulled the other boy closer. He wasn’t overly fond of him, but Isaac was a cuddler, and Stiles got cold easily.


	2. Scott

Scott paced in front of the hospital doors for a good twenty minutes before walking inside. He sat down across from the nurses station. His mother usually went on break around 2. He was a little early. Visiting her was always hard. He missed her so much. But it got harder and harder each time. When Scott was fifteen he grabbed all their bills off the counter and did all the math, and came to two possible conclusions. Either they would both be on the street within months, or he could move out and she could keep her apartment. So Scott left. He met up with Stiles and fell into his own rhythm. One third begging, one third legal under the table work, and one third illegal odd jobs. And at the end of each month he’d have a little extra saved up that he’d take to his mother.

 

Melissa hated knowing that her son was on the streets. Not being able to help him. But he assured her that he was fine. She was pretty sure part of the reason he brought her money was so that she could see that he was doing alright. She knew it was more than just Scott and Stiles running together. Over the past two years, a small horde of teenagers came through the hospital doors asking for her specifically. She treated their illnesses, broken bones, stab wounds, and overdoses. All under the table. They always insisted on giving her money, though she tried to refuse. She was pretty sure Scott made them pay her.

 

When Melissa saw her boy waiting for him, she looked him over carefully. A small scrape on his forehead. Bags under his eyes. Bruised knuckles. He looked exhausted. A little thin. But not too bad. Healthy enough. He stood when he saw her coming and hugged her tight.

 

“I’m ok, mom. I’m ok.”

 

“You better be.” She kissed the side of his head. “Come on. Let me get you some lunch.”

 

Scott liked the hospital cafeteria. He and Stiles spent a lot of time there when they were little. While they ate, Scott filled Melissa in on everything that had happened in the past month. Well… All the good things. Allison’s father dropped some food off for them. They had no idea how he kept finding them. But Allison was just glad he stopped trying to get her to come home. The house they were crashing at had running water. It wasn’t hot, but it was something.

 

“Is Stiles still using?”

 

Scott sighed and stared at his plate.

 

“Mom…”

 

“So that’s a yes. Is he at least being careful? Well. As careful as…”

 

“He never does too much at once. And he never shares needles. Not even with Isaac or Lydia.”

 

“Well, that’s something I suppose. What about you?”

 

“Mom.”

 

“Just be honest with me Scott.”

 

“I smoke pot sometimes. That’s all. I swear.”

 

“Nothing else.”

 

“Well… Maybe a little ecstasy once in a while. But that’s it.”

 

“I know you’re careful. I know you can take care of yourself. But you know that I worry.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

 

“Do you need anything?”

 

“No. Just… My inhaler refills. Lydia’s meds. There’s this new kid hanging with us now. He said he’s on this.” Scott handed her a piece of paper. “I don’t know if you can get your hands on it. He said it really helps.”

 

“Scott, these are anti-psychotics.”

 

“Yeah. I know. He’s pretty mellow most of the time, but sometimes something will set him off and…”

 

“He has anger issues?”

 

“That’s one way of putting it.”

 

“Gimme an hour.”

 

“You’re the best.”

 

~*~

 

An hour later, Scott had a bag full of medications and a bag full of cafeteria food, on his way back home. He hated saying goodbye to his mother.

 

When he got back to the house, he handed Lydia’s pills to Kira and put Liam’s on his bed.

 

“Has anybody seen Liam?”

 

“He went… Somewhere.” Isaac shrugged and tossed Scott an apple. “Said he had to get some money.”

 

“Well, I got his meds.”

 

“Mama’s a goddess. That reminds me, I have to go see her soon to get my stitches out. She said she’d give me a cookie if it’s not infected, and it’s not. I’m getting a cookie!”

 

“Dude, are you high?”

 

“So much. Your girlfriend resupplied.” Isaac gave Scott a sloppy kiss on the mouth before wondering back to his bed. Scott chuckled and flopped down next to Allison.

 

“Hey you.” He kissed her shoulder as she handed him the joint she’d just finished rolling.

 

“How’s mama?”

 

“She worries. Don’t wanna talk about her right now.” Scott slid his hand up Allison’s shirt and groped her gently. “Don’t wanna talk about anything.” He took a deep drag from the joint and passed it back to her. “Just wanna lay here forever. Don’t wanna say anything. Don’t wanna do anything. Just wanna stay right here.”

 

“You don’t wanna do anything?” Allison grinned and took a drag before sealing her lips over Scott’s and exhaling into his mouth.

 

“Might wanna do you.” He murmured, sliding his other hand up her skirt.

 

“Oh you might?” She let out a soft gasp when he slid his fingers inside her, and reached back to shove her hand inside his jeans.

 

“Yeah, maybe.”

 

Sex was always lazy when they were stoned. Sloppy kisses and groping as they passed the joint back and forth. When Isaac wondered over to them for another joint, Allison pulled him down into a kiss before settling him in Scott’s lap. The three of them laid there most of the day. Smoking, fucking, and napping. At some point they noticed Liam walk in and wonder over to his bed. Scott smiled when he saw the younger boy take his pill. It was a good day.

 

~*~*~*~


	3. Kira & Lydia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. So. I know next to nothing about Schizophrenia. So for any of the inaccuracies, just remember that Lydia is not on all of or the exact medications she needs, only what Melissa can steal from the hospital, and is also on other drugs.

Kira crushed up the pill and poured the powder into a bottle of green tea.

 

“Hey princess.” She cooed quietly, pushing Lydia’s hair behind her ear. “Thirsty?” Lydia didn’t look up or acknowledge her. She was busy scrawling letters and numbers into her notebook. “Lyd. You need to drink something.”

 

“Drank something earlier.” Lydia ripped the piece of paper she was working on out of the notebook and started on a fresh one, mumbling something Kira couldn’t understand.

 

“That was vodka. This is tea. You need to stay hydrated. Remember last time? Remember how crappy you feel when you get dehydrated?” Kira held up the bottle in front of Lydia’s face, but the other girl shoved it away.

 

“Busy! She won’t talk to me when you’re here.” Lydia pressed her face closer to the notebook, and began writing faster. “She won’t talk to me. Nobody else will shut up or go away, but she won’t come!” Lydia threw the notebook across the room and slammed her hand into the floor.

 

“No princess. You’ll hurt yourself again.” Kira grabbed Lydia’s wrists and kissed each of her knuckles. “Look at me.” Lydia shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “Look at me. Listen to me. I’m right here. Theresa is gone. She’s dead Lydia.”

 

“No!” Lydia thrashed, trying to pull away. “She told me she’d be right back!”

 

Kira maneuvered behind Lydia, wrapping her arms tight around her as Lydia yelled for her older sister. When she finally screamed herself tired, Kira lifted the bottle to her lips and made her drink.

 

“There you go, princess.” Kira kissed the top of Lydia’s head and rubbed her arms. “That’s better now. How about a nap?” Lydia nodded and Kira wiped the tears from her face. “Here we go.” Kira laid them down and held Lydia close, petting her hair and singing softly in her ear. If Lydia woke before her meds settled in, she would start clawing at the walls, trying to free the people trapped inside. But if she woke after, she would curl up in Kira’s lap and read a book. Maybe she would have a drink with Isaac, or talk philosophy with Stiles. She might even go outside with Allison. If they were very lucky, she would go with them to the skate park and laugh as they fell all over themselves. Kira would buy her a strawberry milkshake and Lydia would chase butterflies that no one else could see. If they were very lucky.

 

~*~

 

When Lydia woke, Kira had fallen asleep. The house was dark. And quiet. So quiet. There was no whispering. No yelling. No voices at all. There were shadows and colors dancing on the walls. But that was all. Kira was sound asleep, Lydia hated to wake her. She tip toed through the house, looking for the others. On the way, she found a bag of Muddy Buddies. She ate them quietly as she followed the shadows out to the back door. There was a pack of cigarettes in the broken planter box on the back porch. Lydia lit one and smoked it as she licked the powdered sugar form her fingers. The sun was almost done setting. Something was crawling on her arm. But she knew it wasn’t there.

 

Lydia was on her third cigarette with an empty bag next to her when Kira came outside.

 

“Hey princess.” She sat down next to her and kissed her softly before stealing a drag from the cigarette. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“In between.” Lydia murmured, laying her head on Kira’s shoulder. “It’s all still there... But… Muted. The voices are gone. For now.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“You drugged me.”

 

“I did.” Kira handed her another bottle of green tea. This one was still sealed. “You were too far gone to take your meds on your own.”

 

“I know.” Lydia cracked open the bottle and drank half of it at once. “Thank you. And tell Scott to thank Mama for me.”

 

“Thank her yourself.”

 

“You know I can’t do that.”

 

Kira stole another drag, grimacing when she smoked the filter. “The others are going to the skate park. Do you wanna go?”

 

“No. But you do. And I can handle it.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Will you buy me a milkshake?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then yes.”

 

~*~

 

Lydia sipped her milkshake form her perch on a crumbling retaining wall as she watched her girlfriend jump over her best friend on her skateboard. Allison laughed and jumped up, not even wavering on her roller blades as she darted off towards a rail. They all played, and skated, and shrieked with laughter. Lydia finished her milkshake and began chewing on the straw. Everything was so loud. So bright. The air grew thick. She couldn’t breathe. It was too much. She had to hide.

 

Kira watched Lydia bolt into a drainage pipe. “Damn it.” She kicked her board over to where Stiles was lounging and ran after her. “Lyd?” Kira crawled into the pipe. “You wanna go home?”

 

“Yes. But you don’t. I’ll be fine.”

 

“You’re hyperventilating.”

 

“I’m fine.” Lydia pressed her forehead to her knees.

 

“Are the voices back?”

 

“No. It’s just… Too much. Overwhelming. I can wait here.”

 

“Princess…”

 

“It’s fine. I like it here. It’s dark. Quiet. I’m pretty sure this pipe is used to drain excess rainwater, not sewage, so, it doesn’t smell. It’s fine. Go. Play. I’m fine here. Please.”

 

“Ok.” Kira kissed the top of her head and headed back out.

 

When she picked up her board, she caught Stiles’ eye and jerked her head towards the pipe. He nodded and headed over. He slid into the pipe and settled down next to her. “Hey princess. Wanna mute the noise?”

 

“Yes please.”

 

Stiles emptied a small amount of heroin onto his hand and lifted it to her nose. After a moment she relaxed and leaned against him, muttering about butterflies and her dead sister.

 

~*~*~*~


	4. Derek

Derek wasn’t sure when he acquired a small horde of teenagers. Time was, it was just him and his sisters living under the freeway overpass. Now he had a loft apartment with two permanent teenage roommates and a gaggle of others that came and went as needed. Erica and Boyd were barely ever home when he was anyway. He worked days, they worked nights. Their friends would crash sometimes when they needed. Sleeping off overdoses and injuries, or just in need of a shower. Half of them were on drugs. One of them was crazy. One was far too optimistic for a kid who’d been on the streets for two years. Then there was Allison. She was his favorite. When he met her and learned who she was, and why she was on the street, the first words out of his mouth were to let him know if and when she needed anything.

 

They were all crazy. Stupid, tattooed, pierced, sex-crazed, reckless, and he would fight, kill, and die for each and every one of them. He was one of them. His family was murdered when he was sixteen. All that was left was his sisters, uncle, and cousin. His uncle offered to let Derek, Laura, and Cora live with him. But Laura refused. Derek never understood why. Then one day, Cora got sick. Laura was working, and Derek didn’t know what else to do. Peter tucked her into his daughter’s bed and gave her some soup. Then he brought Derek into the living room and handed him a sandwich, asking him about how they were doing. Derek couldn’t understand why Laura was so insistent about staying away from him. He was so kind and helpful. He had moved out of the family home when Malia was born, but Derek remembered when he was a kid. Peter was always so nice.

 

An hour later, the room was spinning. Derek couldn’t find his footing, and Peter’s hands were all over him. One minute, they were sitting on the couch. The next, Derek was naked in Peter’s bed. Then there was shouting. Laura. What was she doing there? Derek sat up and watched them fight. It was all blurry. But he saw Peter’s hands wrap around her neck. He saw her claw at his arms. He saw Peter move his hands. He saw Laura’s head move sideways. The wrong way. There was a noise. Like something… Broke. He watched Laura’s body fall to the floor. Her body. She… Derek shook his head. It didn’t make sense. Then Peter’s hands were on him again. He tried to get away. Then Peter’s hands were on his neck. He stopped trying to get away.

 

He did get away. A year later. Cora wouldn't go with him. Peter already had her as attached to him as Malia. Derek tried to make her. But she ran back every time. Eventually he just… Stopped trying. He could pretend that he wasn’t terrified of his uncle. But it was a lie. Every time one of his kids mentioned him, it was like ice in his veins. Every once in a while, he would ask Stiles if he knew how the girls were. The younger boy would just shrug and say that they were still alive. Derek tried to warn him. Tried to warn all of them. Who Peter was. What he was capable of. But they knew. They just didn’t care. It was worth the risk to them. He couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t protect anyone.

 

~*~

 

Derek woke to someone crawling into his bed. His eyes flew open to see Stiles staring down at him.

 

“Hey.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I thought that would be obvious.” The younger boy was shirtless, and very clearly very high.

 

“You need sleep.”

 

“I _need_ an orgasm. Creepy Uncle Peter had me on my knees for hours, and I didn’t get off once. I’m hard, Derek. As often as I shoot up, do you know how impressive that it? We can’t let this go to waste.”

 

“Don’t you have a house full of kids your own age to hump?”

 

“You’re closer. I walked. You gonna turn me away?”

 

“No. But I’m not gonna fuck you either.”

 

“Yes you are. You said that last time.” Stiles straddled his hips. “You don’t have to fuck me. Just help get me off.”

 

Derek groaned and flipped them over, grinding his hips down into Stiles’. “You’re impossible.”

 

“Improbable.”

 

Derek kissed him, telling himself it was just to shut him up. Trying to convince himself that he didn’t care for this boy any differently than any of the others. That he wasn’t special. He could lie to himself all day. This was night. And every once in a while, Derek could let himself have something good. No matter how much he hated himself for it in the morning. No matter how much he wondered if he was like Peter.

 

~*~

 

The sun was just rising when Stiles woke back up. Derek was already awake, tracing Stiles’ tattoos with his fingers.

 

“You’ve never told me what these ones mean.” He touched the three Xs on Stiles’ torso. One over his heart, one on his side, and one in the middle of his stomach. Stiles closed his eyes and touched the three spots himself.

 

“They… One in the gut. One in the side. One in the heart.” He sighed and laid his hand on his heart. “Three bullets. The one in his heart is what killed him. He wasn’t wearing a vest. He shouldn’t have needed one. His partner told him it was clear. They were following up on a stupid noise complaint. Parrish said the building was empty. It wasn’t.”

 

“Parrish. That’s the cop that let you go last time you got picked up for solicitation?”

 

“That’s the cop who lets me go every time.” Stiles laughed bitterly. “He feels guilty. It’s his fault I’m an orphan. His fault I’m a junkie and a whore. It’s all his fucking fault.”

 

Derek took his hand and kissed each of the tattoos. He knew there was nothing he could say. He knew what it was like to feel that hollow. That low. All he could do was be there for him. To hold him for as long as Stiles would let him. To let him know he wasn’t alone.

 

~*~*~*~


	5. Allison

Allison was hung the hell over. Her head was pounding. Her mouth was dry. Her stomach was churning. She needed water. She needed food. She needed a cigarette. Most importantly, she needed whoever had their elbow digging into her hip to move the fuck off. She twisted around, accidentally kneeing said person in the head. The resulting string of swear words informed her that it was Isaac. Which was her first guess. Scott had his head nestled in the crook of her neck and his hand holding her breast. He was a sleep groper. More often than not she would wake to find his hands grabbing something. She mentioned it to him once and he got the most adorable confused puppy dog look on his face. Isaac had nodded and told him it was true. He didn’t believe them until one morning he woke up with fingers inside both of them. He was very embarrassed and apologetic about the whole thing, but neither of them could stop laughing. 

Allison loved how easy it was to laugh with her friends. She’d never had friends before. Her family moving to a new city every few months. They always kept her on a short leash. Her father kept on a short leash by her grandfather. They controlled her every move. Always had eyes on her. She was home schooled. Not allowed to go anywhere without a chaperone. For her own good. That was what they always told her. Then they moved to Beacon Hills. Then the fire happened. She’d heard the rumors. Then the arrest. Her aunt was on trial for arson and ten counts of first degree murder. She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to stand by Kate with the rest of her family. But the evidence was piling up. Then she heard her parents and grandfather arguing one night. They knew Kate was guilty. They were shelling out money for the best lawyers to try and get her off because they knew she did it. Her dad felt uncomfortable about the whole thing. But Allison knew he would never defy his father. Her aunt had murdered ten people. And her family was going to help her get away with it.

That was the first time Allison ran away. All of eleven years old. She made it as far as the sheriff’s station. The sheriff was a kind man with tired eyes. He listened to her. Gave her water. Told her to sit in the lobby while he made some phone calls. There was a boy in the lobby. The sheriff’s son. He was a hyper boy her age. Funny and smart. He told her about his best friend and his favorite books. He was the closest thing to a friend that Allison ever had.

Kate was found guilty on all counts. But the rest of the family was spared any charges of conspiracy. They decided to stay in Beacon Hills. To be close to Kate, and try to get her acquitted. Allison ran away three more times, each time getting dragged back home. The fourth time, she was fifteen. She ran into the sheriff’s son. Though she couldn’t really call him that, since the sheriff had died the year before. Stiles. He and his friend Scott were living in an old abandoned train station, and they invited her to stay with them. It took her parents months to find her. When her grandfather came looking for her, Stiles pulled a knife on him and told him the only way Allison was ever going back with him was if she damn well wanted to. And if Gerard or anybody else tried to force her to go anywhere, Stiles would have no problem with stabbing them in the face.

Every few months, Allison’s father would track them down and leave some food and money, with a letter that just said he missed her and loved her and hoped she was safe and happy. He never pried. He never tried to convince her to come home. He kept his distance and just reminded her that she had a place waiting for her. If it was just him, she might even consider it. He never felt right about defending Kate, and he seemed happy when she was convicted. But there was no way she would live under her mother and grandfather’s thumbs again. And now, there was no way she would abandon her friends. They were her real family now. 

When she met Derek, she was overwhelmed with guilt. She remembered him from the trial. She knew what her aunt did to him. What she did to his family. She told him who she was. What had happened with her family. He was so kind. They became fast friends. He was grateful to her. For going against her family. For her testimony. For leaving them behind. He became her honorary big brother. 

When Lydia came along, Allison was drawn to her. An instinctual need to protect her. They bonded immediately. They could talk about anything, and often did. Drug induced philosophical debates that went on throughout the night. She was the sister that Allison never had. 

Kira was a breath of fresh air. Finally, someone who knew how to fight. Stiles could use a knife or a gun when he had to. But Allison and Kira came from families that taught them everything from hand-to-hand to weapons. Trained them to be skilled fighters. Sparing with Kira was some of the most fun she had.

She wasn’t as close with Derek’s roommates. They were nice, but quiet. Allison never really got to know them. When she and the others would crash in the loft, she would talk to them. Hang out. Watch tv. 

It wasn’t perfect. Life was hard. But they had each other. They were a family.


	6. Liam

Liam was used to anger. That was what he knew. That was all he was. Ever since he was a little kid, he always settled his problems with a fist fight. If that wasn’t an option, there were plenty of inanimate objects to take out his aggression on.

 

At fourteen, Liam had quite the record. Assault and battery. Vandalism. Attempted murder. The pills his therapist gave him helped a little. But that rage was always there. Just under the surface. When his mother recommended military school, it was the last straw. He tried to be good. To be better for them. But if they were just going to give up on him, then he could give up too. There was no way he was going to military school. He really would kill someone. Or himself. He couldn’t do it. It was time to take things into his own hands.

 

His first few weeks on the street were the worst of his life. He was cold, dirty, and hungry. But he was safe. Rather, other people were safe from him. He slept behind dumpsters and spent his days on the outskirts of the town, begging for food and money.

 

One night, an older man tried to steal his backpack. Liam wasn’t sure when he went from yelling at the guy to straddling his chest, punching him in the face. He felt someone lift him off the guy and drag him away, his backpack over their shoulder.

 

“This all your stuff?”

 

“Yeah. It’s mine. Give it back.”

 

“I will once we get the fuck out of here. Somebody called the cops.”

 

Sure enough, Liam heard sirens in the distance as the other boy led him down back alleys and into a dilapidated neighborhood.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

The other boy stopped and pressed Liam against a street light.

 

“Are you good? Calm?”

 

“Yeah.” Liam sighed. “Sometimes I… But yeah, I’m good now.”

 

“You smoke?”

 

“Cigarettes?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh… No.”

 

“Here. It’ll keep you mellow.” The boy lit a joint and handed it to him. “I’m gonna take you home with me. You’re a baby. You look twelve.”

 

“I’m fourteen!” The boy rolled his eyes and lifted Liam’s hand to press the joint to his lips. Liam choked and coughed as he inhaled.

 

“You’re a baby. You stay out here on your own, you’ll be dead within a month. So I’m gonna take you back with me. But you need to stay fucking cool. Understand? There’s a whole bunch of us and we stick together to keep safe. You fuck that up, you’re gone. Got it?”

 

“Yeah.” Liam took another hit.

 

“I’m Scott.”

 

“Liam.”

 

“Let’s go home, Liam.”

 

~*~

 

The pot helped. Scott even got him his meds. The others were cautious around him for a while, but they were still friendly and welcoming. He was three years younger than them and found a place for himself as everyone’s baby brother. They were all fiercely protective of each other. When his temper flared up, they were there for him. To talk him down, or drug him up, depending on how bad it was. Derek even had a punching bag in his loft that he let Liam use sometimes.

 

There were moments. Times when the others had to drag him away from someone, kicking and screaming. But he never went after any of them. Never got mad at them. Never broke anything of theirs. They protected him. Kept him sane. One time, Liam got arrested for putting a garbage can through the window of a shop whose owner threw a rock at him and called him trash. He was in the station for an hour before Stiles showed up and stared down Deputy Parrish for a few minutes before the man let him go. Parrish was up for election for Sheriff, it didn’t make sense that he would let a street rat go. Liam tried asking Stiles about it, but he never got an answer. That night, Liam curled up next to Stiles instead of in his own bed. The older boy chuckled and ruffled his hair before pulling him close and using him as his own personal teddy bear.

 

~*~

 

Liam liked Lydia. They were both unbalanced and made people uncomfortable. They liked to hang out on street corners and yell at passing drivers. They could be themselves with each other. It was like their own little crazy people club. Her girlfriend even taught him how to throw a real punch, and how to pickpocket.

 

Liam saw his mother once in the months since he ran away. She didn’t see him. She was walking into the mall. Liam in the parking lot with Scott and Allison. They were playing hacky sack and begging for money off anyone who walked by. Allison tried to sell some of the jewelry Liam had stolen from that very mall the week before. They found people were more willing to buy stolen goods from the girls than the boys.

 

He almost called out when he saw her. She was coming from the other side of the lot and didn’t see him. She looked happy. Liam felt his finger nails digging into his palms. Then Scott’s hands were on his shoulders.

 

“Hey. You need to get out of here?” He murmured.

 

“No. It’s… I’m fine.” Liam took a deep breath and shook his head. “She’s fine. She doesn’t even care. Did you see her? Her only kid is on the street for four months and she doesn’t give a fuck.”

 

“She cares Li. She cares a lot. She just doesn’t know what to do. So she moves on. She keeps her head up and gets on with her life. No matter how much it hurts. She’s strong. Tough. That’s where you get it from.” Scott pressed a kiss to the top of Liam’s head. “Do you wanna go talk to her?”

 

“No. I… It’s fine.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“I know where she lives.”

 

They went back to what they were doing. Liam didn’t even notice when his mother walked back to her car.

 

~*~*~*~


End file.
